


Second Hand Love

by RatPrince



Category: Columbine - Fandom, True Crime - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Columbine, Drabble, F/M, Horny Teenagers, Light Angst, Reader-Insert, School Shootings, Teen Angst, Teen Crush, dont smoke kids, sharing cigarettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 09:26:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17281439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RatPrince/pseuds/RatPrince
Summary: Reader gets into the habit of stealing someones smokes, But they don't mind~Dylan Klebold x Female!Reader Drabble





	Second Hand Love

There you were, sitting on one of the concrete stoops that surrounded the so called, “Smokers Pit” taking a drag off your menthol you pushed your slightly sweaty blonde hair back before pulling your black baseball cap back over it. It was being a particularly hot Colorado summer yet you were still walking around in your black cotton duster and it really was starting to get too much for you. Was fitting in with the little clique you had finally worked yourself into worth being this MOIST? You were really starting to wonder. 

Blowing your smoke as your mind drifted to your depressing thoughts as it often did you just couldn’t help but sigh as you stood up, shrugging your coat off your shoulders you began peeling it off, holding your cigarette between your lips and you lean your head back to avoid burning the front of your hair that fell out of the before mentioned cap. Just as your sweltering arms were about to feel the relief of the breeze that was blowing through the area you heard someone making their way over but you were too worried about other matters to try to see what they looked like. 

You quickly turn around and pull the coat back over and try to not look so disheveled, but you were surely failing. You turned back around just in time to come chest to chest with a girl, might have been a year younger than you might not have been. What you could tell is that she was upset. The red tint to her S/T face could have been mistaken for being a sunburn if it wasn’t for small angry tears streaming from her E/C eyes. They looked at you, made eye contact briefly and before you could even ask her ‘whats the matter’ you felt yourself relieved of your cigarette. It was now resting between the girl’s lips and from the way her hand was shaking you wouldn’t have dreamed of asking for it back. 

She just stood there, practically bouncing from whatever had just occurred, one arm across their midsection looking almost as if she was holding herself. “Sorry mister, I just really needed this.” Her voice hit me like a ton of bricks. It was nothing like I’d been expecting. Smooth, like honey. With a slight southern accent to it. After your brain caught up to itself you finally registered what she’d just said.   
‘Mister.. Mister? Does she just think I’m some weirdo that hangs around here?’ 

You unintentionally kept the silence as you stared at the cigarette that you’d once held in your own mouth, now resting in another’s. It was just so strangely intimate to you and you suddenly felt your throat go completely dry, as dry as the air around the two of you. The sound of you clearing your throat makes your companion jump slightly and hold their chest. 

“Damn! Thought you were mute or something..I wont bite, Unless you’re friends with some of those assholes on the football field…” They look at you clearly expecting a response and your blue eyes widen. 

“Hell no…Those creeps get under my skin too..” You watched them take the cigarette and flick it and hold it between their manicured fingernails. A really captivating green, not the usual pink or red. Your eyes snap back up to watch her nod and take another puff, “They flipped up my friends skirt, I told them I’d cut their dicks off if they tried something with her again…Maybe not the smartest thing I’ve done all year..” You could hear it in their tone, the hint of fear. Their body and their face read totally opposites and you could tell they were a tough girl. You always had people expect you to be able to fight, to stand up for yourself. Being 6’3 does that. But you never had, You always just let what was going to happen to you happen. And something about her, and the strength she was showing made you feel something inside. A substantial need to prove yourself to somebody. Stand up and protect someone other than yourself. 

You sat there desperately trying to come up with something to say but your throat was just so dry, and the smell of her perfume mixed with the tobacco simply put had you intoxicated. 

That was the first time you met her. And you had imagined it being a one time thing, but oh no, you were wrong. That day had been a Friday, she came to that same spot every Tuesday, Thursday and Friday for the last two weeks. She never asked for her own cigarette, which never bothered you one bit. And she’d never harped on you for being too quiet, she talked about her friends, her family and any issues she might have been having. You didn’t want to admit it but you had started to think of her often, writing about her in your journal. 

Describing all the little things she does that just makes your heart flutter. The way they push their hair behind their ear when they go to hit YOUR cigarette. The way they look at you and look away. The little noise they make that lets your know they aren’t in a good mood. How soft that area of their thighs look when their skirt blows slightly in the breeze. 

‘SNAP. SNAP.’

Your confused daydreaming eyes meet your companions amused face as you break your intense eye contact with their legs, your eyes follow the menthol they were currently waving in front of your face. “I know this is your last one, why don’t we half it?”

You could feel the heat rush up your neck to your ears, not because you’d potentially been caught staring. But because the thought of your lips actually touching where hers had. It was just so intimate. Too intimate. You weren’t worthy of it. And before you could give your crush any kind of mumbled answer you simply stood up and briskly walked away despite their confused calls for you. 

You were sick of getting your hopes up, sick of thinking, ‘Huh, maybe Dylan deserves love and affection.’ When I clearly don’t. And I’ll never get it.


End file.
